The Grey Wardens of Ferelden
by tigerlillymelody
Summary: Duncan and Alistair travel Fereldan recruiting potential Wardens. All possible origins. First draft, suggestions welcome.
1. The Casteless and the Kinslayer

The Casteless and the Kinslayer

"Greetings Duran. You are dressed and ready, excellent. You took your sweet time, I see. They are all waiting for you to begin the festivities."  
Gorim was a pale dwarf with auburn hair, and though the paid guard of Duran, elite warrior and the second son to the King Endrin of the house Aeducan, the two dwarven men had built a rapport over the years.  
"You should try getting darkspawn ichor out of your beard sometime. It's a nightmare, really."  
Gorim rolled his eyes and held up a shiny metal shield.  
"Do you want to wear your shields to the feast?"  
"Yes," said Duran, adjusting the braiding of his dark beard, "let them see me as a warrior."  
"As opposed to what? The paragon of beauty?"  
"You, my friend, are ridiculous."  
Gorim slumped back in a chair and shrugged, "One can't take all of this marching and speech-making too seriously."  
Duran didn't respond. There was, in fact, nothing more serious. For the past few months his father had been testing him and his two other brothers. Endrin was getting on in years, and Duran knew that he was contemplating who he was going to endorse to take the throne in the event of his death. The dwarven crown did not always pass from father to son, but it had been in the Aeducan house for five generations now, and to break the streak would be undesirable.  
"Have you seen my brothers?"  
"They're out and about" Gorim replied, "browsing the shops. As you know permits into the diamond quarter have been extended to the merchant caste so there is plenty of surface junk to ogle at. Though Bhelen seemed more interested in accentuating his longsword, if you catch my drift. Speaking of, it seems Harrowmont is hoping some well-placed young noble will catch your eyes at the Provings."  
"Ha! That's not likely to happen! Harrowmont should just be glad I'm not interested in picking up casteless trash like Bhelen."  
"I don't know. They certainly don't make girls like that in the diamond quarter. Have you seen her? She's quite the looker and from what Bhelen says a bit more adventurous than your average noblewoman."  
"Yes, like having an adventure where you beat down genlocks. You even get to suffer the taint afterwards." Duran let out a small derisive laugh. "Shall we head down to the feast then?"

* * *

A wild rumpus could be heard coming from within the house. The house was a ramshackle and dirty thing, but the joyous revelry breathed a certain life into it. The party inside was finishing a particularly raunchy verse when a large, bearded dwarf stood up and let out a large belch, soliciting applause and guffaws from the rest of the party.  
"Ahem" came a deep cough from the corner. "Party's over. Rica, Brosca time for work."  
The guests quickly dissipated and two girls stepped forward. Though they looked similar, as sisters were want to do, they carried themselves very differently. Rica was slender, her movements imbued with grace and poise. She wore her hair in complicated braids and donned expensive lace gowns. Brosca was short and muscular, her movements were clumsy yet deliberate. And what Brosca lacked in sophisticastion and charm she made up for with confidence and determination. "Aw, come on Beraht," Brosca cooed, setting down her mug on the table. It was filled with a dark brown swill that looked barely edible. "we're just having a little celebration. It's not every day your sister gets courted by the prince of all Orzammar."  
"Her work's not done yet, and neither is yours. Once her belly is full with her prince's baby then you both go free and I get to join the family and be called "My lord" for the rest of the little prince's life."  
"And her son will call you uncle and come to visit you on name days?" Brosca scoffed.  
"I don't think it's smart to make such comments especially what happened after the last errand I sent you on. Leske's waiting outside, he's got the info for your next job. As for you Rica, I have different work for you."  
Brosca reluctantly headed outside. She hated the way Beraht treated her and her sister. One day, when Rica was a royal concubine and Brosca a great warrior, that nug-humper Beraht would get was coming to him, and Brosca was going to make sure she was the one making the delivery.  
"About sodding time. I was starting to think I'd have to bust in and get an eyeful of that spicy sister of yours. Ga-row!"  
To most Leske seemed rather intimidating, he was tall for dwarf with dark skin, corn rows, and a stubbly chin. He had several gold teeth and a tattoo on his cheek that identified him as castless, an underclass of dwarves deemed unworthy to return to the stone after death. And while he might be good for intimidating people of the other castes (who saw the casteless as murders and thieves anyways), most brands knew him for his flirtatious nature and the goofy grin that he usually wore across his face.  
Brosca punched him softly in the stomach.

"I told you not to talk about my sister that way."  
"You're just jealous because you want the majesty of Leske for yourself. What do you say?"  
"That is not true" except for the fact that it was, "anyways, the last time I saw your 'majesty' the sceptre was a little...soft."  
Leske's grin faded and he tried to pass the moment off with a nervous laugh. "Anyways, we should focus on our mission for Beraht."  
"Aaaw, I was hoping our mission was me making fun of you" Brosca pouted, trying to look as cute as she can.  
"Guess you're out of luck," Leske continued, regaining his composure, "Beraht wants us to shake down some surfacer named Oskias. Word is he's been selling shipments topside that never make it down here. He wants us to find the rotter and see what goods he's been holding back."  
"He's stealing from Beraht? I like him already!"  
"Well yours will be a short and tragic relationship. Ready to show him some pain?"  
"Alright, let's show this rotter what Beraht does to cheaters. Or, what Beraht makes us do anways."  
"Poetry to my ears, Salroka."  
They stood outside the entrance to Dust Town. Oskias was talking to a couple of people outside of Tapster's, they just need to wait for him to go off by himself so they could deal with him. Leske tugged at Brosca's sleeve.  
"Stone's embrace! Grey Wardens!"  
"The Grey Wardens? What are they doing here? Another one of them going to gloriously sacrifice themselves fighting darkspawn in the old thaigs?"  
"Looking for recruits, apparently," Leske noticed the hopeful look on his companion's face, "don't get your hopes up too high, sweetheart. He'll be taking some sodding sword-caste from the proving."  
The two Grey Wardens were conversing at a market stall not far off from Brosca and Leske. The younger one, who was tall and blonde looked over towards Dust Town.  
"Let me guess," he said to the other Warden looking disdainfully at the rundown shantytown, "that is where the poor people live."  
The older Grey Warden gave him a reproachful look. "We cannot all be bastard princes, Alistair."  
Brosca, did not take this well. She waltzed up to him and curtsied. "Welcome to Orzammar, ser. May I drink your bathwater?"  
The older Grey Warden chuckled. "You should be more careful, Alistair, the next time you insult a dwarf may be your last." He turned to Brosca, "Stone-met. And greetings on your house." he paused, "That was the proper greeting for an outsider last time I visited Orzammar. Has it changed? Or is there a reason you're looking at me so strangely?"  
"In my part of Orzammar, we usually just go with hello."  
"We do the same in my part of Fereldan. Hello then. My name is Duncan. I'd say, 'Of the Grey Wardens' but I suspect you already know that. And this is Alistair. Pleased to meet you."  
She stared at him. For a man who was supposed to be learned it took him awfully long to catch on, "My name is Brosca of Nothing."  
A look of comprehension dawned over the blonde's face, "Of course! You're casteless! That's what the face-brand means then, I remember it now."  
"Good for you, ser, all by yourself," Brosca saw that a guard had noticed her talking to the Wardens, "and yes you can have me arrested for harassing you."  
"For saying hello?" queried Duncan, "My friend, to a Grey Warden nothing short of a slavering darkspawn waking you in your bedroll counts as harassment. Actually I'm glad I met you. Whenever we come to Orzammar we always stay in the Diamond Quarter. You forget how much of the city you miss." He gave Alistair another meaningful look.  
Trying to sound casual, Brosca piped up again, "Is it true you're here looking for recruits?"  
"The Wardens are always looking for those who have the courage to spend their lives in battle against the darkspawn. It's rare we find those with both the skill and the will. The best Wardens are ruthless to their enemies, compassionate to their friends, and inspiring to their troops," there was a tenderness in his voice that put the young dwarf at ease, "It is a lot to look for, but I hope to find it here. And I hope you also may find what you are looking for."  
With that Duncan and the other Grey Warden, who at this time was looking quite sullen and pouty, walked away.  
Leske walked up to her, "Oskias just walked into Tapster's, we can catch him in there."  
Brosca nodded and they walked into the pub. Oskias sat by himself at a small table in the back of the room. She and Leske approached the table.  
"Hey! I'm saving that seat!"  
"That's really thoughtful Oskias," Leske plopped down in the seat next to him, resting his feet on the table, "it's tiring work looking for you."  
"How do you know my name?"  
"Let's just say we have a mutual friend."  
"Oh no, you're not from Beraht are you? Because that would be too much. I don't think I could handle..."  
Brosca sighed, "Look old man, stop wasting our time. We know you're a two-faced swindling turn-coat whose been cheating Beraht, so cough up the goods and maybe we let you live."  
"Look, I-I always been loyal to Beraht. He's been good to my family. I know how much I owe'm I swear!"  
"Great, so when we search your bags we shouldn't find any processed Lyrium layin' around. Leske, if you will."  
"It would be my pleasure."  
"Wait!" Oskias stood up quickly, pale with fear. "I do have some lyrium. It's just ore, I swear. I made a side deal with a mining family topside. But I was gonna give Beraht his cut if the deal worked out. Promise. I'd be crazy not to."  
Leske dropped the bag on the table, "Suicidal, some might say."  
"If I were to maybe, say, give you a piece that would be a lot of coin. More than Beraht is probably paying you. I could maybe, you know, give it to you and you can forget you ever saw me. What do you say?"  
Leske began to unsheathe his dagger.  
"Just wait a tick Leske." She turned to Oskias, "How much dough are we talking about here?"  
"For two nuggets of grade B lyrium ore you could probably get 3 sovereigns, maybe 4 if you can bargain it right."  
Brosca though it over for a second. "All right, you give me all you have, and we forget we ever met you."  
Leske pulled her aside, "Are you breathing smoke? Beraht'll kill you if he catches you with his lyrium!"  
"Me? You think I wouldn't share it with my bestest friend Leske?"  
"50/50?"  
"You got it, Salroka."  
"Well that's a whole other story entirely."  
"Excuse me," squeaked Oskias, "not to interrupt, but what happens to me now?"  
"Now we kill you, or we make it look like we do. All you got to do is play dead and never show your face in Orzammar again."  
Oskias cringed at the mention of the deep roads.  
"Just so you know," continued Leske, "we ever hear of you coming anywhere near the mountains we will come and kill you personally. No bribes, no questions, just death, hot and quick."  
"Oh! Don't worry about me. I'll never return again I swear. I'll move to Orlais, Antiva, the Ander-"  
Leske picked him up by the shirt and slammed him against the wall. "We don't cheat Beraht, and neither should you." Leske dramatically turned around to face the rest of the bar, "Could everyone who isn't about to die please turn around for a moment? This might get unpleasant."  
"You can't!" whimpered Oskias, "this is murder! Call for the guards! Help!"  
The barkeep gave them a friendly wave, "You two need anything you let me know, I'll be in the back."  
They beat him up a bit and then Leske hauled him over his shoulder and they walked out of Tapster's towards the lava sinks. Once they were far enough inside that they were out of view, Leske let Oskias down.  
"Alright," said Brosca, "your dead, got it? Now get lost."  
Oskias gave them a disgustingly low bow, "Thank you! You're as kind as you are beautiful! May the ancestors bless your steps." And with that he scampered off like a deep stalker on the trail of a nug.  
"Hear that, Leske? He thought you were beautiful."  
Leske didn't smile, "Was that smart? If Beraht finds out Oskias ran he'll kill you, he'll kill me. He'll make you kill me and then yourself. Then hell, he'll probably stew us and serve us to the poor."  
"If you think I'm going to let that moss-licking cave-tick keep me down here forever, Leske you've been spending too much time around the Lyrium."  
Leske sighed. He knew trying to reason with her at this point would be pointless. "Alright, then we better go find Olinda. She used to give me crusts off her week's-end loaf when I was little. She's got a soft spot for me. Plus, she hates Beraht so he won't be hearing about it."  
They returned to the commons, where Leske quickly found Olinda's stall. Her face perked up as they approached. She was an older woman, maybe in her mid to late thirties, with short blonde hair and a large bust.  
"Leske! You old scamp, what're you doing here? Trying to charm me out of another set of ribbons for your girl?"  
Leske casually leaned on the edge of her stall, flashing her a charming grin, "Trying to talk you into being my girl, Olinda. You know my hearts breaking for you."  
Olinda blushed, "Don't you go saying that around my husband! Who's the girl?"  
"You mean Leske never told about his best friend, Brosca?" Who, to be honest, was feeling a little hurt. She had never received any ribbons from Leske.  
"Hey, when I'm with a lady, the last thing I'm thinking about is you."  
_Ouch_  
Olinda petted his chin. "Well, look around sweetheart. I'll slide you on the mark-up, being that we're friends, but I can't give anything away for free."  
"Actually," Brosca pulled out Oskias' bag, "we were wondering what you'll pay us for some lyrium ore."  
"Wow, that was not what I was expecting to cross those pretty lips. Where exactly would someone like you pick up Lyrium?"  
"Where do you think Olinda?" Leske asked.  
"Oh I don't know," she replied coyly, "the Lyrium fairy?"  
Leske let out a laugh and handed her the nuggets, "Didn't I tell you she was a gem?"  
She examined the ore. "I can give you three and thirty per nugget."  
Leske nodded.  
"All right, let me take this off your hands. And Leske, you should probably lay low for a while, just in case."  
"We'll just see if you can stay away."  
Olinda raised an eyebrow and shooed them off.  
Leske and Brosca walked back to headquarters, where Beraht and his right hand Jarvia was waiting for them.  
"So, my cousin was at the Tapster's said you took care of that tosser Oskias."  
"Here's his bag. Didn't have anything on 'im. Said he kept all of his stuff topside with some surfacer. Had been making deals with a family in the mining caste. It was just ore though, nothing too valuable." Brosca handed over his bag.  
"Said he was going to give you a cut," piped in Leske, "but we know better than to trust two-timin' cheaters, so we made sure he and the rest of Tapster's knew what happens when they cross you, boss."  
Beraht finished rifling through Oskias' belongings. "Great.. great.. where'd you stuff the body?"  
"In the lava sinks behind the mining pits, you won't be seeing him again."  
"See Jarvia, she gets in line once you dangle that pretty sister of hers in front of her. I think they'll be able to handle this next little errand."  
Jarvia gave a contemptuous scoff.  
"As you might have noticed, in honor of our great prince Duran, the deshyrs are holding provings. Since this Grey Warden is also here the entire warrior caste is testing their metal, and this is a big opportunity for us to come out like kings. I have some coin on Everd, more than enough to buy both of your puny lives a hundred times over. Anyways, he's a long shot. I need you to find out when he's going up against, Mainar, he's the shoe-in to win the proving, and slip this into his water."  
He dangled a small vial of clear, bubbling liquid. "It's just some deathroot essence, so he'll only be a little disoriented. Then Evered can win the match and we can all go home happy. You'll need some passes to get into the arena. Jarvia managed to filch these for you. You're supposed to be cleaning up in the trenches, so until it's time to drug Mainar, you should stick there with the other casteless to avoid suspicion."  
Drugs and passes in tow, Brosca and Leske started toward the proving arena. "You are such a kiss ass Leske. 'Yes master Beraht. We killed him good for you!' Next thing I know you'll be offering to polish his sword for him between battles."  
"Ha ha ha! Very funny! At least I'm not in trouble with him every other week. You're going to get yourself killed one of these days."  
"Yeah right. Once Rica bears prince Bhelen a child I'll be untouchable."  
"Yeah, well -"  
"Excuse me brands, what do you think you're doing here?" The guard bore over them as he checked their passes. "You're late, you'd better get a move on."  
As they walked towards the arena they heard him mutter, "Lazy, casteless scum..."

* * *

"Congratulations on your victory in the Deep Roads, your highness. The entire warrior caste is honored to be under your leadership."  
"Gorim, did I tell this thing he could talk to me?"  
Gorim pulled out a tiny hammer, "No ser, should I take out his kneecaps or will losing one of his fingers be sufficient punishment?"  
The young warrior lad started crying and kissing Gorim's shoes "Please ser, I'm so sorry. I meant no offense. Please, I will do anything. Do not bring dishonor to my house!"  
"Alright, Gorim," Duran smiled, "tell this youth that he must perform the warrior phasing ritual."  
Gorim threw back his shoulders, pumped up his chest, and continued with considerable bombast. "You are very lucky young one. Most warriors are much older than you when they complete the phasing ritual. It is a test of skill and endurance. You must stand over there and lick your elbow. When you have completed this task, you will have shown that you have the flexibility and physical stamina to defend the honor of the stone in the name of the great house Aeducan!"  
"Oh yes! Of course! Thank you so much! May the stone bless both your houses!"  
Once the youth was out of ear-shot, Gorim and Duran erupted into boisterous laughs.  
"Shouldn't you be at the Provings, brother? I'm sure father is waiting for you. Do you really have so little respect for him to disregard his wishes on a day set aside for you?"  
Duran jumped at the harsh sound of his brother Trian's voice. Trian was the oldest and most likely to inherit the throne once their father was dead. Trian had their other brother, Bhelen with him. Having neither the political prowess of Trian nor the elite battle skill of Duran, Bhelen was forced to follow Trian around as his lackey, hoping for his good graces once he became king.  
Gorim folded his arms and sassily replied, "Lord Harrowmont told us that we wouldn't be needed for a couple hours at least-"  
"If I wanted the opinion of one of my brother's seconds I would've asked for it."  
Gorim shrank, and bowed his head, "Yes, your highness."  
"I already talked to father at the feast, which you didn't bother to attend Trian. My own brother missing a glorious feast in my honor? I'm terribly hurt." He pouted.  
"I had more pressing manners at hand. The world does not stop and start with your meager achievements, and if you ever took your responsibilities as prince seriously instead of needlessly toying with young commoners you would understand."  
Duran rolled his eyes. "Come on, Bhelen. Help me out here."  
Bhelen waved his arms, "You know I love needlessly toying with commoners, but don't look at me, brother. I've had to put up with him all afternoon."  
Trian turned on Bhelen, scowling, "What's that supposed to mean?"  
"Nothing, Trian. I've been having a great time. That speech you gave to that legless brand boy about pulling himself up by his bootstraps and making something of himself was inspiring. Gave me a whole new view on life."  
Duran snorted. "I'm sorry I missed that, Trian. It's a shame you missed the feast, father mentioned you. He's worried you're too much of an ass to be king."  
"Very funny little brother." Trian was not amused. "I suggest you stop wasting both of our times and get to the provings. Father will not live forever." Trian gave him a stern look and walked off. Bhelen stayed behind for a second.  
"You should be more careful Duran, I do not think it is in your best interest to taunt Trian about the crown."  
"You sound serious Bhelen, is everything alright?"  
"To be honest, no. Trian was absent from the feast this afternoon because he is planning on eliminating you. With your recent military victory you have gained great approval with the assembly, and in a popularity contest, you would surely win."  
"At last! High five, Gorim!" Gorim obliged, "Trian has finally recognized that I am a threat. I'm surprised he waited for father to name me commander."  
Bhelen took him aside, an urgent look in his eyes. "Do not be so cocky and complacent big brother. Trian means business. He has already been making deals with the carta and if that fails he is in talks with the Antivan Crows."  
"Bhelen, don't get me wrong, you're my brother and I love you, but why are you telling me this? You risk quite a lot. If Trian were to ever find out, he'd kill you on the spot."  
"If word were to ever get out about your assassination, Trian would lose a great deal of popularity and then it's only a matter of time before I too become a threat. Anyways," he affectionately put his hand on Duran's shoulder, "I'd much rather you be king. I look up to you big brother, you know that."  
Duran smiled, "Then it's settled. We deal with Trian. Can I assume that you will stand by my side and swear your loyalty to me Bhelen? Gorim?"  
"To the end, friend, I have sworn remain by your side and I shall do so now."  
"I wouldn't have told you brother, if I did not plan on assisting you. I have a plan, but we shall discuss it later I notice the Grey Wardens approaching, the leader has been eager to meet you, plus I cannot stray from Trian's side for to long, lest he get suspicious. I'll see you after the provings. Good luck, and keep your guard up." Bhelen embraced his brother and ran off to find Trian.  
The two Grey Wardens approached Duran and Gorim.  
The older, swarthy warden bowed. "Greetings, my Lord Aeducan. It is an honor to meet you at last. I am Duncan of the Grey Wardens. I am in your debt for your hospitality and graciousness during my stay in Orzammar."  
"The pleasure is all mine, Grey Warden Duncan." Duran and Gorim both bowed.  
"I just returned from a meeting with your father. He speaks highly of you. He says you may be the most skilled warrior in all of House Aeducan."  
"There is no maybe about it. I am the best warrior in all of Orzammar."  
"Ah yes," the blonde warden interjected, "King Endrin mentioned your humble nature as well."  
Gorim laughed and Duncan shooed off the other Grey Warden.  
"I was hoping that perhaps I could have a moment of your time after the Provings. I am in dire need of more Grey Wardens. While the darkspawn have lessened here, they have been launching a massive assault above ground, and we fear that a blight has already begun. I was hoping that you may be able to suggest a couple of your warriors for recruits. As commander, I'm sure you have noticed who would be the most effective against and worthy of the honor in facing a blight."  
Duran nodded. "I will put a great deal of thought into this, and give you some names tomorrow. Enjoy your stay here in Orzammar, Grey Warden and may the stone give you its blessings."  
"Thank you, my lord. The best of luck to you in your future campaigns."

* * *

Duncan walked off in search of Alistair. He had only been talking to Prince Duran for a minute, so he could not have wondered off far. He saw him at last standing next to a young, armored dwarf. Both he and the boy were sticking their tongues out and waving around their arms.  
"Alistair! What in Andraste's name are you doing?!"  
Alistair, tongue still wagging outside of his mouth replied, "The dwarven warrior phasing ritual. You have to touch your elbow with your tongue. I can't seem to get it. Duncan, what is the trick?"  
"Alistair, there is no trick. This young lad is obviously playing a trick on you. It is impossible for one to lick their own elbow. This is nothing but a cruel joke. Honestly Alistair, sometimes I think I cannot take you anywhere."  
Alistair looked embarrassed. "Oh."  
Duncan sighed. "Come Alistair, let us return to the palace."

Broca and Leske snuck over to Everd's room. They opened the door, and an uncoordinated blonde dwarf leaped out at them. He laughed.  
"Oh! I thought you were a couple of winged deep stalkers coming to take my sword! But it's just you, pretty lady. Did the prince send me one of his lady-friends to celebrate my victory in the Provings today?"  
He advanced toward Brosca, and though she was ready to disable him, he passed out before he could get within reach.  
Leske put his head in his hands. "Sod it! He's stone drunk! He could draw a dead man for his bout and still lose! What are we going to do?! Beraht will kill us if Everd doesn't win." Leske's facial expression suddenly changed. "Wait, I've got a brilliant idea!"  
Brosca had an idea too. "I could put on his armor and fight in his name?"  
Leske's smile broadened. "Woah! That's much better than my idea. I was going to suggest we start a rockslide in the stands, but you're brilliant!"  
He paced around the room for a second. "Absoultely brilliant! All you have to do is keep your visor down and fight in his name. He wins, Beraht wins, everybody wins! You know except all those warrior caste braggarts you leave kissing dust!" He laughed and pulled her close, "I sodding love the way you think, Salroka! I was afraid Beraht was going to kill us!"  
Brosca pulled away. "This isn't for Beraht. I want to impress the Grey Wardens. This is my chance to get out of here. Leave dust town and this backward place forever and fight darkspawn alongside the best warriors in all of Ferelden."  
"Brosca, you know you can't let anyone know it's you. If they find out you'll be executed. They'll say it's an offense to the ancestors." He looked at her resolved and hopeful face and sighed. "Look, if you want to tell the Wardens at least wait until sometime when you can pull them aside and bolt afterwards if you need to."  
Brosca grinned. "I know, and Leske," she pulled out Beraht's vial. "I want to win this fight on my own merit, so no drugs for Mainar, okay?"  
"You've got a heart of steel, my friend. Here, I'll help you get in the armor."  
Brosca got dressed quickly. She held her helmet under her arm and turned to her partner. "Leske, in case I don't make it or get found out I want you to tell Rica that I love her, and" she paused, "I just wanted to thank you for everything, Salroka. It's been a blast." She grabbed his face and kissed him.  
Leske smiled, "I'll see you after you beat all of those scum into the ground. Now get going. We can't have you miss your bid for glory and honor and all that stuff."  
Brosca nodded, put on her helmet and ran into the arena.

* * *

Two dolled-up women made eyes at Duran and Gorim. Raising his eyebrow and nudging Gorim, Duran headed over to meet the two lovely ladies.  
The blonde one spoke first. "Well if it isn't the man of the hour? It is an unbelievable honor to meet you Prince Aeducan."  
Duran took her hand and kissed it. "The honor is all mine, ladies, trust me. May I be so bold as to ask what beautiful name the stone has given to two such fetching ladies as yourselves."  
She coyly giggled and curtseyd. "My name is Mardy, and this is Teli."  
Teli stepped forward, she had brown hair and a softer face than the other. "And who is your friend, my Lord? Another noble from the honored House Aeducan?"  
"This," he patted Gorim on the back, "is my loyal second."  
Teli sashayed over to Gorim and began to suggestively play with his beard. Gorim, removed her hand, and said, "But not from a noble house, girls. Ser Gorim, warrior caste."  
"Oh," Teli's face fell, "that's too bad you are rather handsome."  
Mardy turned to Duran. "Can I interest you in a little bedded diversion?"  
Duran chuckled. "I'm always interested in bedded diversions, but do I have really have to pick just one?"  
Teli giggled again. "Oh! My lord has his energy about him!"  
Mardy smiled. "Oh, this should prove most interesting. We will wait for you together, my lord, and show you the proper way to celebrate a princely commission!"  
Duran gave the girls a wink and walked off.  
"I can't believe you just convinced them to go for a little menage-a-trois! You, ser, are my hero!"  
"Oh, you know Gorim, when you are Prince you have a duty to make sure none of your people are disappointed, my brother Trian taught me that."  
"First smart thing I've ever heard come out of his mouth. Speaking of such, perhaps we should head over to the provings now, we could show them what single combat is really about. And by we, I mean you. Heh, I'll practice my cheering."  
"Oh Gorim, you could take any of those glorified wannabes. Speaking of which, I was wondering what your interests were with the Grey Wardens. As you remember, Duncan has asked me to recommend some of our warrior caste for recruitment. Being my second and all, well, you would have first bid if it would be something you desired. I could think of no one that would represent the might of Orzammar and the dwarves better than you, my friend."  
"Duran.. I'm touched. That would be a great honor, but I do not think that I could bring myself to leave your side. I made an oath to always remain loyal to you, and with Trian plotting to kill you, you need me more than ever. I hope I have not offended you by declining this incredible honor."  
"Of course not, Gorim. To be honest, I was hoping you would stay. I'm going to need someone to keep the ladies at bay when I'm king."  
"Oh, don't worry my lord, you know that I'm good for that."  
They entered the commons, heading towards the proving arena. An armored guard ran after them. "My lord! Wait! Are you heading to the proving arena?"  
"Gorim, I do not remember addressing this man."  
Gorim stared the guard down. "You are not to address the Lord Aeducan unless spoken to first."  
The guard bowed, obviously embarrassed. "Forgive me, Ser Gorim, I meant no offense. I was simply told by our great King Endrin to escort our new commander to the proving grounds."  
"Gorim, tell this man that he is acting ridiculously. I do not need an armed guard."  
"My Lord Aeducan, thinks that you could have provided him with a more impressive entourage."  
"I am terribly sorry, Ser, please forgive me for my failing."  
"Commander Duran Aeducan forgives you, but does not wish for your company. Leave now, please."  
The guard nodded and scurried off. Gorim and Duran headed quickly over to the proving arena, and entered the royal box. The proving guard bowed low upon their entrance.  
"Your highness, it is an honor to have you here. Have you come to watch these brave warriors do battle in your honor?"  
"Gorim, tell the Proving Master that I have come here to fight."  
"Prince Duran says that he wishes to enter himself in the provings."  
The Proving Master looked confused. "But your highness, this proving is in your honor..."  
"Then honor him by acquiescing to his request. My Lord Aeducan will fight in the Proving."  
The Proving Master looked slightly taken aback but nodded, "Of course. It is well within your rights." He turned to face the audience. "Honored Dwarves of Orzammar, it appears we have a late entry in this great proving held in honor of our new commander, Prince Duran Aeducan." He paused dramatically, "I give you, the Lord Aeducan himself!"  
Duran stepped out onto the battlefield to the roaring applause of the crowd. It was not since Daylin, three centuries ago, that a member of the royal family had participated in the Provings.  
Duran defeated all of his components easily. Whether he was actually the most skilled, or whether no one wished to be the one to defeat the popular, young prince Duran didn't know or care.  
"And another victory goes to our Prince Duran. The time has now arrived for our final battle. Prince Duran will face the winner of the earlier preliminary round, Everd of the house Dulac will face Commander Lord Prince Duran Aeducan!"  
Duran bowed. "You honor me with this fight. May we both win glory in the eyes of our lords."  
Everd bowed. "Now you're talking my language, brother."  
Duran laughed.  
"First warrior to fall is vanquished. Fight!"  
The crowd erupted with energy. Duran waved and made manly gestures to the crowd, as he had done before each of his previous battles. So, he was surprised when he felt the harsh bang of Everd's head against his chest. He fell back and the next moment he noticed the slick end of a battle-axe caressing his neck. Duran cursed himself. How could he be so stupid? This was obviously Trian's plan to eliminate him. He felt that all hope was lost until everyone was distracted by a burly, blonde dwarf stumbling onto the pitch.  
"There he is! That bastard stole my armor!"  
The Proving Master stood up angrily. "Who are you? How dare you disrupt this sacred-"  
"I am Everd of the House Dulac and this is an imposter."  
A nobleman in the stands spoke up. "He tells the truth! That is indeed Everd. I would swear my life on it!"  
Everyone scrambled in confusion, but the unknown warrior kept his blade to Duran's throat. The booming voice of the Proving Master interrupted the chaos. "Remove your helmet, warrior, and let all who watched and cheered for you see your face."  
The warrior removed the helmet from his head, tossing it to the ground with a loud clank. Duran watched in amazement. "I am of no caste or clan, but I have defeated you all!" She laughed as the guards began to close in upon her.  
The Proving Master gasped. "Casteless! You insult the very nature of this proving!"  
"WHAT?!" exclaimed Alistair, "This woman has shown immense courage and skill. She should shine as an example to all!"  
"We are honored by your presence Wardens, but this proving is not solely for you. There are laws which have governed this arena for a thousand years. This woman is no warrior! She is casteless, rejected by the ancestors. Her very footsteps pollute the Stone. She has no place here."  
"Except as your champion!" Alistair glared at the man in disbelief.  
Duncan pulled him aside. "Come Alistair, I think we might wish to have a word with King Endrin."  
Alistair turned back to the Proving Master and made a rude gesture before following after Duncan.

* * *

Bhelen bolted back to his room. The fiasco at the proving was unexpected, but the resulting chaos would allow him enough time to plant some significant evidence. He opened his bedside drawer. Trian's seal was missing. He frantically overturned the room for it.  
"If you're looking for the seal, you won't find it here." Rica, his lover, stood behind him.  
"Rica! What happened? Where's Trian's seal?"  
"It's safe. I just... Bhelen, please, tell me you did not just hire my sister to attempt to kill Duran."  
"Your sister? Rica, what in the ancestors' name are you talking about? Where's the seal?"  
"The girl at the provings, the casteless impersonator. Please, tell me you did not hire her to kill your brother!" Rica was visibly upset.  
Bhelen's expression softened. "Oh, my little amber rose, I swear I made no deals with your sister or Beraht. Will you tell me what you did with the seal?"  
"I want you to send some of your men to rescue her and get her out of Orzammar."  
"Darling, she impersonated a warrior caste. Even if she is still alive, if anyone were to find out I helped her, it would ruin my bid for King. Ruin everything we've been working so hard to achieve."  
"Then make sure no one finds out you helped rescue her."  
"And what would she do after she's free? She can't stay here in Orzammar, and would she really be able to survive on the surface?"  
"Ser Duncan, the Grey Warden, he wants to recruit her into his order. Listen, Bhelen, it's flawless. Orzammar gets a Grey Warden, an emissary to meet all of the wealthy and influential topsiders. Not only does this Grey Warden bring our kingdom great prestige, but she also always listens to her big sister, who may or may not currently be the lover of the future King of Orzammar." She seductively curled her arms around his neck, and begged him with her puppy dog eyes. "If anything goes wrong in your plans to usurp the throne, she would unquestionably support you. The support of a Grey Warden, a legendary warrior with a status above kings and lords, that would surely grant you great favor with the assembly."  
Bhelen thought it over for a second. He turned around with a smile and kissed her. "My love, _you _are flawless. I will send my two stealthiest men to the carta at once. My dear, will you tell me where you put the seal, now?"  
"I snuck into the interrogation room and I placed it on my sister's friend. The guards surely will have found it by now, and will be eager to return it to their commander."  
"Oh, you really are brilliant," growled Bhelen as he kissed Rica's neck, "Have I ever told you how incredibly sexy you are when you plot to steal the throne?"  
"Maybe I'll remember once you send those stealthy little men of yours."  
"Yes, of course, I'll be right back, and then we can celebrate."  
"I'll be waiting."

* * *

Brosca felt a light touch on her arm. Leske was shaking her, she couldn't see him through the darkness of their enclosure, but she recognized his voice.  
"Are you awake yet? Psst. Can you hear me? How hard did they sodding hit you anyway? Did you have to put up such a fight?"  
Brosca stirred, disoriented. She was in some sort of cell and Leske was in the cell next to her. It took her a moment to decipher the words that Leske uttered. Her head was pounding something fierce.  
Her voice was a bit weak, but she was able to muster, "I just hope I took some of them down with me!"  
Leske laughed. "Oh, you did and don't think they didn't show me their appreciation. One of the guards recognized me and figured we must be working together. They burned three candles to the stump interrogating me about who put us up to this. I think they knew, you know, about Beraht."  
"Leske, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"  
"Oh, you know it takes more than an army of royal guards to take down ol' Leske."  
Feeling slightly better, Brosca sat up, "So, what's the sentence for ridiculing the entire warrior caste?"  
Leske's smile faded. "Public whipping. Loss of your left hand for stealing the armor. Loss of your right hand for befouling a smith's work. Public flaying for impersonating a higher caste, and if that doesn't kill you, they'll put you to death for polluting the proving. That Grey Warden suggested exile, but it didn't seem like anyone was listening."  
"Oh Leske, I was so close. So close to getting out of this stone foresaken town. Making something of myself. I feel like such an idiot, I never should have never gone in that proving it was so reckless of me."  
Leske heard her sniffle and he reached through the bars, groping for her hand. "Are you kidding, Salroka? I couldn't imagine a better send off. You put every one of those sodding namers in their place! You defeated the commander of Orzammar's armies with no hands, literally. Epic. You were glorious. Every brand is going to remember you, and your rougishly handsome companion Leske, for centuries. It'll go up in their minds next to Paragon Gherlon."  
"Thanks. I just wish I didn't have to drag you down with me."  
"We're a team, Salroka. You know I'm useless without you."  
"I love you, Leske."  
"I know. I love you too."  
They sat in silence in the dark for a while, just holding each other's hands, not knowing what to do next. Suddenly, they were blinded by light and heard a familiarly sarcastic voice.  
"Aaaw, isn't that sweet."  
"Jarvia!" cried out Brosca, "please tell me you're here to bust us out."  
"Bust you out girly, just where do you think you are? This is no prison. You're in the carta cells. Beraht wanted the pleasure of ending your life himself. The entire proving was declared forfeit. Not only did Beraht lose his coin, but now there's been talk about his involvement with the whole Everd disaster. People are asking questions and as long as you both have tongues, you're a threat to the well-being of this institution." She paused. "Enjoy your last night together. Sorry we couldn't put you in a cell together, we couldn't risk you trying to break out. Otherwise you could have a last tumble." Leske and Brosca could hear her harsh laugh echo in the halls as she left.  
There was one guard sitting on the other side of the room. Leske turned to Brosca. He had been beat-up badly. He had a black eye, a cut on his cheek, and tears on his lips. He whispered in her ear. "I know these cells, I used to guard them back in the day. If you can hand me that broken off piece of bar, I can pick our way out."  
Brosca handed him the small metal rod, and Leske had unlocked the door without a hitch. He snuck up behind the guard and snapped his neck before swiftly unlocking her door. "Come on, let's get out of this sodding hole."  
Brosca looked at the guard, lifelessly limped over his chair. "You killed Joe…"  
"If we want to make it out of here alive, we can't leave anyone to talk."  
Brosca hesitated, then nodded solemnly in agreement.

* * *

There was knock at the door. Duran gave a wave and Gorim opened the door. Bhelen stood at the other end looking concerned.  
"Brother, are you alright?"  
"Am I alright? Is that a joke?" Bhelen didn't respond. "Of course I am not alright. I was just embarrassed! Defeated in front of all of Orzammar at the provings held in my honor by a branded woman! A branded woman who was hired by my older brother TO MURDER ME!"  
"Are you sure that it was Trian?"  
"Deadly, the guards found his seal on one of the girl's accomplishes."  
Bhelen shook his head. "This is worse than I thought. When I overheard him he talked of poisoning your drink or ambushing you outside of the arena, but this, this is just cruel. To inflict such a harsh wound upon your honor by hiring some cocky idiot casteless to play dirty at the provings, that goes much farther than simply playing the game of politics."  
"I know, I know. I just never thought that Trian would stoop that low. It's sickening, is what it is."  
"Permission to speak freely."  
"Of course, Gorim."  
"I think that this matter can no longer wait. Trian needs to be dealt with tonight."  
"I couldn't agree more," replied Bhelen, "you must confront Trian tonight. I will ensure that all of his guards are busy with other matters. Then you can engage him in battle and defeat him."  
"Engage him in battle? It's a romantic idea, brother, but don't be stupid. Surely a battle would attract the attention of everyone in the palace. No, it needs to be done quietly, in his sleep" answered Duran resolutely. "No, I can't risk pulling something funny. I must do it in his sleep."  
"Heh, I guess this is why you're the commander and I'm… not," Bhelen laughed uncomfortably, then continued serious and stone-faced "I will make sure that a servant slips him a drug, so you need not worry about him waking midst the deed."  
That night was painful. Gorim and Duran sat in the bedroom in complete silence listening to the persistent ticking of the clock. Listening to footsteps outside the door, listening to every creak, every shuffle. Waiting for Bhelen to enter or for another assassination attempt or to hear the scream of some poor servant or guard who accidentally got in the way.  
"So..."  
"Yup..."  
"Being king should be fun...."  
"Yeah, good times..."  
"Yeah...."  
"Yeah..."  
"Mmmhmm..."  
"Yup..."  
"Did you ever notice how the stone changes color when you squint?"  
Duran squinted.  
"Yeah it kinda does. Interesting."  
"Yeah"  
"Yup"  
"Do you think maybe I should change, Gorim?"  
"Change what?"  
"My clothes, blood does stain rather easily and this shirt is rather flattering. Maybe I should change into a less flattering shirt."  
"Are you planning on making it a bloody affair?"  
"I... don't know, I hadn't really thought about it. What do you think Gorim?"  
"Eh, you have several shirts exactly like that one."  
"No, about, you know, the method."  
"I don't think it's my place to say. He's your brother."  
"I suppose he is."  
"Yup"  
"But what if I ruin the other shirts fighting darkspawn?"  
"Or killing Bhelen…"  
"What?!"  
"Nothing..."  
"No really, why would I kill Bhelen? He's sort of pathetic really. Hangs out in the commons, gallivants with branded whores. The assembly would sooner commit a ritual collective suicide in the name of Andraste than elect him king."  
"I guess you're right."  
"I don't take pleasure in fratricide, Gorim."  
"I know, I'm sorry."  
"It's okay."  
"Okay."  
"Okay."  
"Oh, Duran. You have some dust in your beard, here I'll get it out."  
Gorim began to lean over when he heard a knock on the door. "Oh, let's hope that that's Bhelen. Who is it?"  
"Gorim? It's me Bhelen."  
"Oh, thank the stone," sighed Duran as Gorim opened the door, "what's the word?"  
"Trian's drugged and asleep in his room. The hallways are free, no one should see you enter or exit his room."  
The three of them exchanged looks. It was Bhelen who broke the silence.  
"I don't think that I can come with you, if that's okay. I just, don't think that I could stomach it. I know you watch things die all the time brother, you are a great dwarven commander, but I just..."  
"It's alright, little brother. I understand. Why don't you get some sleep, and I'll see you at breakfast, and Bhelen" Duran paused, placing his hand affectionately on his little brother's shoulder, "thank you for telling me of Trian's plot. You've risked quite a lot to help me, and when I become king, I promise your loyalty will not go unnoticed."  
The two brothers hugged, and Bhelen walked down the hall to his room.  
Duran began heading towards Trian's room.  
"Duran, I know I said it isn't my place to tell you how to... do away with Trian, but I think you should suffocate him. It's less, you know, suspicious looking."  
"I think you're right." They both stood there.  
"Maybe we should go now, Ser, before the guards are finished with whatever useless task Bhelen sent them on."  
Duran nodded and they quietly crept over to Trian's room. He was alone, sleeping. He looked almost sad, just lying there alone. Duran stood there, staring at his still body. Watching his chest expand and collapse with each breath. "I'll hold the pillow over his face and if he starts to, you know, fight back or panic, Gorim you can hold the body down."  
Gorim gave him a solid nod and patted him on the back. Duran picked up one of his brother's pillows, and quickly began to smother him. It wasn't long before Trian's body realized it wasn't getting any oxygen and Trian began to spasm. He could hear the terrified screams of his brother being stifled by the stuffing of the pillow. Gorim held him down, steadfast and true as always.  
"Duran!" came a shriek from behind them. Duran's neck swiveled around. It was Endrin. "Please, Duran, tell me this is not what it looks like!"  
Duran dropped the pillow and froze. Behind him was his father, half a dozen armed guards, Lord Harrowmont and several nobles who lived in the palace. In front of him was the blue face of his brother, frozen in terror.  
"Uh, well, that would depend on what it looks like." He looked to Gorim for help, but Gorim appeared to be just as paralyzed as him. "but I guess that if it looks like I'm the new heir then you're close?"  
"Prince Duran," bellowed Lord Harrowmont, "this is fratricide. You cannot joke your way out of this."  
Everything suddenly hit Duran. The reality of his situation. He regained his composure. "Trian has been plotting to kill me. I had no choice. He hired that casteless thug to kill me at the proving, and were it not for the skill of our guards and her glory-seeking reckless abandon, he would have succeeded."  
"Do you have any proof of this?"  
"One of the brands she was working with had Trian's seal on him. He used it to get into the warrior's quarters and impersonate Everd."  
Lord Bemot, one of Trian's seconds stepped forward. "That ring was stolen off of Trian weeks ago. That duster could have acquired it anywhere."  
Frandlin Ivo, a noble warrior of great renowned stepped forward. "I cannot keep my silence any longer. Duran I saw you take that ring from Trian in the deep roads during your campaign. I respect you as my great and noble commander, but your troops can no longer stand by while you are consumed by your greed and ambition."  
Gorim finally stepped forward. "You treacherous bastard." Immediately several of the guards rushed to restrain Gorim.  
King Endrin looked absolutely crushed. He bowed his head in despair and pointed at Duran. "Bind him."  
The guards approached quickly. Duran struggled, hot tears running down his face. "Father?! How can you not see that this is a set-up? Please!"  
Endrin responded, unable to look him in the eye as he was dragged past by the guards. "I want to believe that son, I really do."

* * *

Brosca and Leske were almost home free. There was a secret entrance into the carta inside a store near the entrance to the deep roads. If they could make it into the deep roads with no one noticing they could fight their way into one of the old thaigs and find a door to the surface. They were about to climb up the ladder when they heard footsteps approaching. They both bolted under a table. There were several men casually talking. They both recognized the voice of the first one's as Beraht's  
"Oh, don't you worry boys, I'm not going to hurt her. I'm just going to show that freak sister of hers what happens when you cross Beraht."  
"Hey, Beraht, maybe, you know, after your done with Rica, you could give us a turn. We don't need to kill that brat until morning anyways, no reason we can't have a little fun before work."  
"Oh please boys, share and share alike. It's not as if she actually cares. She'll do anything I ask her to. She likes it, that filthy whore. Likes it when you get really kinky and dirty. Tie her up and-"  
"If you ever touch another fucking hair on my sister's head I will come back from the stone to ensure that you never ever enjoy moment of your life ever again."  
He quickly unsheathed his weapon. "You're supposed to be locked up. No matter. When we're done with you you'll be no better off than a bronto on-"  
Beraht's sentence was cut short when Brosca jumped him and severed his vocal cords with the blade of her knife. Covered in Beraht's blood she turned to the other two men, and began to advance on them when they ran like scared little children. She stabbed the dagger into Beraht's gut and spit on his blood drenched face.  
"I have been waiting so long to do that. In my fantasies he usually begged for mercy first though."  
Leske circled the body, admiring her handiwork. "Oh, don't you worry, Salroka, he was begging alright. That look of utter surprise on his face when he tasted his own blood. That was as close to begging as Beraht gets."  
"Let's just get out of here, I don't want to be here when people come looking for Beraht. I've had enough brushes with death today, thank you."  
"Alright, though if I were you I would want to stay and take credit for that. Did you see him there all 'You'll never get away' and then you just pounced in there and ripped his sodding throat out!"  
"Yeah, it was pretty awesome, Beraht's had that a long time comin'."  
"Boy, did he ever!"  
They finally reached the trap-door. Leske peeked out and gave the signal for all clear. Most of the street lamps where dimmed at this time so they could slip through part of the commons mostly unnoticed. They could see the entrance to the deep roads now. Sweet freedom was just a few hundred yards away.  
"Stop! There she is! Seize the fugitive!"  
It was the proving master and about dozen guards. They made a run for it, but even more guards emerged out of the deep roads.  
"Shit! Out of the frying pan..."  
Brosca relinquished her arms and sadly accepted her fate as the guards bound her. The proving master read her crimes aloud.  
"Impersonating a higher caste, defaming the work of a smith, contaminating the grounds of the proving, contaminating the spectators of the proving, carrying out malicious deeds for wanted criminal Beraht-"  
"Oh, you can strike that one, last time I saw Beraht he was suffering from a bad case of dead."  
The proving master was taken aback. "He's dead? Beraht had many enemies but also powerful allies. They-"  
"Beraht would have butchered us if she hadn't killed him first."  
"Two less casteless to worry about..."  
"Halt!" came a loud, stern voice, it was the Grey Warden Brosca had met earlier. "I invoke the right of conscription upon this young lady."  
"Are you asking me to become a Grey Warden?" excitedly squealed Brosca.  
"Allow me to make my offer formal. I, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, conscript your person to join our order."  
"This woman is wanted for treason. You can't do this!"  
"I can and I am." Duncan stood firm, towering over the rest of the dwarves. He and the proving master stood glaring at each other in silence for what seemed like, to Brosca, an eternity. Finally the Proving Master waived his guards off and the crowd slowly dissipated until it only Duncan, Brosca, and Leske remained.  
"Wait, so am I really a Grey Warden now?!"  
"Well, you have yet to be officiated into the order..."  
Brosca jumped up and down, screaming with excitement. Duncan just laughed.  
"We are leaving Orzammar in twelve hours. I know this is not much time to gather your belongings and bid farewell to your home, but the Blight will not wait. For now I must take my leave, I have important matters to discuss with King Endrin. Rest well and I shall collect you soon." With that Duncan took his leave and Leske and Brosca headed back to Dust Town.  
"Wow, Salroka, a Grey Warden, I can hardly believe it. "  
"I know. I still don't believe I'm not dreaming. I beat out all those stupid rock-brained warrior castes in the provings, taught the prince of Orzammar a lesson, sent that asschab Beraht back to the stone where he belongs, and then was recruited into the Grey Wardens. Not only am I leaving this sodding place, but I'm achieving one of the greatest honors of our land."  
"I remember when your sister first got you the job, you didn't even have the strength to lift an axe or the stones to shake down a pusher. I thought you were so hopeless. It looks like you don't need ol' Leske anymore though."  
"Don't say that! You know I wouldn't be here without you. Maybe I can convince Duncan to let you come too, you're more than skilled enough in battle to take down herds of darkspawn."  
"And leave all of beautiful Dust town behind me?" he motioned towards the dirty cesspool they called home. "I don't think so. Anyways, could you really see me devoting myself to anything? I have enough trouble getting out of bed. Don't you worry about me, Brosca. I'm resourceful, I'll find something, I made out with three sovereigns today, I can at least live off that for a while."  
"Leske, I want you to have my share too."  
"What?! Don't be ridiculous! It was your idea to sell the ore."  
She handed him the bag. "Leske, I'm getting out of here and joining an elite band of warriors, paraded around Ferelden and being lavished with gifts by kings. I don't need it. Please."  
"Well, if you insist."  
"I do."  
They arrived at Brosca's house. Leske slid in front of the door.  
"You don't actually think I'm going to let you go without experiencing the glory of Leske one  
last time, do you?"  
"Oh, you'd better not!"

* * *

Alistair wondered through the streets of Dust Town. Rica, the sister of the new recruit, had given Alistair directions. Duncan was supposed to have accompanied him, but due to the murder of King Endrin's eldest son their plans had changed. He walked up to a door. Maybe this was it? It had the rustiest red door he had seen so far.  
"You the Grey Warden?"

Alistair jumped. The gruff voice came from a woman on Alistair's left, partly obscured by shadows.  
"Um.. yes… How did you know?"  
"Brosca asked me to keep an eye out for some Grey Wardens, and we don't usually get humans around here, especially not in such shiny armor."  
Alistair looked down at his armor. It did stick out against his grimy setting. Not to mention he was about a foot taller than everyone else.  
"That's not her house. And I would step away from the door if I were you, Jannor lives there. He's paranoid, if he see you on his door step he'll likely slit your throat before he asks you any questions."  
Alistair cautiously walked away from the door.  
"I can show you where she lives."  
Alistair hesitated. This woman seemed sketch to say the least. However, she was unarmed and Alistair figured he could take her or anyone she might lead him to.  
"Come on, I don't bite."  
"Okay…"  
He followed her through the tiny, winding, crowded streets of Dust town. People on the street whistled and shouted to her, and she shrugged them off or yelled at them, but they kept their pace. Finally they arrived in some sort of square. Alistair was fairly certain he had been here before. They crossed the square, and the woman pointed to a small, dark alcove.  
"She lives over there."  
"Thank you." Alistair started to walk towards the door. The woman coughed.  
Alistair stared at her for a moment. "Oh right!" He took 15 silver out of his pocket. "Thank you."  
The woman seemed satisfied, and walked off. Alistair headed into the alcove. Brosca and her friend were sitting on the steps in front of one of the doors. She was doing his hair and motioned over for Alistair to come over.  
"You're late. And where's Duncan? I was beginning to worry that you'd forgotten about me."  
"He's at the palace. One of the sons of King Endrin was murdered in his sleep. They want us to-"  
Brosca stood up, quickly. "Wait which son of King Endrin?"  
"Um, the eldest one. The middle one is still awaiting trial, though it doesn't look good for him. They found him at the scene of the crime."  
Brosca squealed. "Do you know what this means?!?!"  
Alistair look befuddled. "The mortality rate for princes in this year's census is going to be outrageous?"  
Leske smiled wide, leaning his back against the door. "Rica's going to be sitting pretty as consort to the king. It's easy living from here on out."  
"Wow Leske! Is this the best day ever or is this the best day ever!"  
"I'm so glad the death of two men has worked out so well for you." Alistair added sarcastically. "So you'll feel especially lucky that you get to fend off darkspawn while we take the corpse to its burial place."  
Brosca sighed, then giggled. "Oh the never ending duties of a Grey Warden. That's me, the Grey Warden, just in case anyone didn't already know."  
Alistair found it hard to be upset with her, she reminded him of himself after he had been recruited into the Grey Wardens.  
"Do we have time to stop by the palace? I would like to say goodbye to my sister, and I don't really have the ability to go to the palace myself…"  
"She's going to meet us in front of the deep roads."  
"What are we doing standing around here then. Let's go!"  
"Don't you need to get your stuff? You won't be able to come back."  
She laughed. "Alistair, I am broke. I have no stuff. Let's go."  
They reached the cul-de-sac before the deep roads. There was a large congregation of dwarves there, almost all from the noble caste. They were huddled around a large stone tomb with intricate engravings on it. King Endrin stood at the head, his eyes bloodshot.  
"Your sister is over there. Duncan and I will be over there when you're ready." He patted her on the back and walked over towards Duncan.  
Rica stood over to the side wearing a lovely black dress. Brosca quickly ran up and embraced her.

"Rica! I heard the news! Congratulations!"  
"Shhh, not so loud! I'm supposed to be mourning the tragic death of our prince."  
Brosca started to tear up. "Rica, I'm going to miss you so much. I don't know how I'm going to do this without you."  
Rica pulled Brosca close, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Oh, Broscy, don't worry. You'll be great. You have more experience fighting darkspawn than any of those surfacers. The Grey Wardens are an elite group of warriors that must persevere under the worst of circumstances against our greatest foes. You have grown in to such a strong young woman, and I am so proud to be your big sister. Plus, if you could survive dust town, what are a couple hundred soulless creatures of destruction, huh?" Brosca laughed. "There's the Brosca I know, always smiling no matter what the circumstance. You stay strong, okay? And I'll be waiting here for you to return, even if I have to wait until your calling."  
"I promise I'll be back before then, even if I need to take command of the Grey Wardens to do so. I love you Rica, take care, and may your days be filled with the pitter patter of little princely feet." She gave her sister a kiss.  
"Ga-row!"  
"Fuck you, Leske!" Brosca playfully pushed him aside.  
"You know, we still have some time before you leave if you two girls want to give Leske a farewell present."  
Rica rolled her eyes and walked off towards Bhelen.  
"All right, I guess this is good-bye. Take care, Salroka, and all those things your sister said."  
They shared one last kiss and then Leske walked off, waving good-bye as he turned round the corner into the commons.  
Brosca looked over towards Duncan and Alistair. The pall had already begun and the crowd began to slowly disappear into the deep roads. Several dwarven minstrels struck up a sad, mournful tune.  
_How fitting_, thought Brosca as she stood at the mouth of the cave, staring back at the only world she'd ever known. Taking her last glance at the stone city she called her own, Brosca said goodbye to Orzammar and marched onward into the shadowy cave.

* * *

Duran sat in his cell alone, waiting for the assembly to deliberate. Gorim approached, looking grim.

"Bad news?" Duran asked.

He nodded. "Bhelen has taken Trian's place in the assembly. He moved for a motion to condemn you for your actions, it easily passed. He had over half the assembly in the palm of his hand. He must have been planning this for months if not years."

"That bastard!" Duran pounded his fist against the wall, "You've got to admire the way he plays the game. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Will you be alright Gorim?"

He nodded again. "My belongings have been confiscated and they have stripped me of my title. My name will be struck from the records of my house. They are going to allow me to try and live some semblance of a life on the surface. It's exile, but it's better than what they are going to do to you…"

Duran wrung his hands anxiously. "So they've sentenced me already."

"Harrowmont tried to suggest exile for you as well, but with Bhelen's influence in the assembly…" he paused. "They are sealing you in the deep roads. I requested they let me accompany you, your loyal second until the end, but Bhelen wanted to make sure you were left to fend in there on your own. But he forgot about one thing. The Grey Wardens will be exiting Orzammar through the Aeducan Thaig. If you are able to hold your own until you can find them you might be able to accompany them to the surface."

"So the only thing that stands between me and freedom is an almost insurmountable mass of darkspawn? I suppose I can handle that. What will you do Gorim?"

"I hear that there is work in Denerim…"

"If I make it out alive I will come and find you."

"My lord, I would be honored, thank you."

"I will miss you Gorim. "

"I am so sorry, my lord, I should've seen Bhelen's plans. I have failed you."

"No Gorim, you have stood honorably with me. After the I have ended the blight, I will ensure that you have your honor restored to you."

The two men embraced. "I must go now." Gorim bowed. "I – good luck my lord Aeducan. May the stone bless your sword." And with those last words Gorim left Duran to his fate.

* * *

Their trip through the deep roads was fairly uneventful. There were far too many of them to risk an attack from deepstalkers, and every day the number of darkspawn in the deep roads dwindled. Honestly, Brosca felt more animosity coming from the funeral party. She felt their glares upon her as she straggled behind the group. When they arrived in the Thaig, she stayed outside with Alistair and they watched through the windows of the building. The funeral itself was quick, there did not seem to be much to say about Prince Trian. After accompanying the party back to the deep roads, the three wardens retraced their steps through the Aeducan thaig.

"Are dwarven funerals always so cold and impersonal?" Alistair asked her.

Brosca shrugged. "The casteless are not allowed any sort of burial or death rituals."

"Trian was about as pleasant as a nippling-bug. Funerals are usually more heartfelt, but I doubt anyone was truly saddened by his death, well other than my father of course."

"Prince Aeducan, I was wondering if we would run into you here. You wish to join us I assume? Your skill fighting darkspawn would certainly be a great asset. " Duncan waved him along and continued walking on as though nothing of consequence had happened.

Brosca looked obviously displeased. Alistair looked skeptical, he ran up to Duncan's side.

"Are you sure about this Duncan," Alistair asked in a low whisper, "he murdered his own brother. Do we really want someone like that to be a Grey Warden?"

"None of us have spotless honor, Alistair. Grey Wardens are not chosen for their moral fortitude. He has had much experience fighting darkspawn, and is more than willing to accept the sacrifices of being a Grey Warden. Would you rather we leave him here to perish instead of putting him to use defending Fereldan against a blight?"

"No, I suppose not. I'm sorry I questioned you Duncan. You're right, of course."

Duncan patted the young warden on the shoulder and smiled before continuing on his way. The journey was quiet for a while, only punctuated by Duncan's occasional directions. They would travel in one direction for a while, and then Duncan would quickly turn down an undeveloped side tunnel or change directions completely. It wasn't long before they ran into a small group of darkspawn. It was only about quarter dozen genlock grunts, and they were disposed of easily. After many hours of running around the Thaig they stopped in a large, circular rocky depression.

"Alistair, do you sense anything?" Alistair shook his head. "We will rest here for now."


	2. The Harrowed

Harrowed

Duran was silently lying on his bedroll, watching Alistair paw at his nose in his sleep. How this idiot ever became a Grey Warden, Duran didn't know. At least the duster girl had decent skill fighting, there was no art to her blade, but she was fierce and ruthless, had she not been born a soulless stain on the stone, she might have made a decent beserker. Alistair's fighting was only slightly above average, and he certainly was not very bright or very adept in anything as far as Duran could tell. _Though I suppose appearances can be deceiving. That Bhelen would ever betray me so, or have been so masterful in assembly politics…_ Duran continued to watch that idiot Alistair mumble and paw in his sleep. He was exhausted, suredly, but the scene of his brother's death kept playing over and over in his head. He was stirred from his thoughts when he noticed Duncan rise from his resting place. Duran slowly got up and followed him.

_ Where could he be going alone in the deep roads?_

Duran followed him down twisting paths. He noticed a black growth slowly encroaching on the walls until he felt the gruesome squish of it beneath his toes. Still Duncan moved on. Duran followed him for what felt like hours (though in the deep roads, time lost its meaning), and soon the taint began to grow fainter until you could almost see the rock beneath. Even more strangely, there was an odd green glow shimmering in the distance. Duncan looked almost ethereal walking towards the source of the light. A little farther down the tunnel there was an eerie green lake. Duncan removed his sword, stuck it in the ground, and knelt before it. And in a whisper he said, "Draw your last breath, my friend, cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker's right hand, and be Forgiven."

What he said next, Duran would not hear. He did not care for man's maker, and made his way back towards where they had set up camp.

* * *

Brosca walked around the caldera. She noticed an area to the left scattered with dwarven corpses. She began to examine them. The corpses were fairly old, the skin almost completely rotted off the body with large sections of bones poking through. She had forgotten the odor of death that hung about the deep roads until that moment. After turning them over several times, she found them to be mostly of no use. As she was leaving something shiny caught her eye. Hidden between two corpses was a beautifully pale sword with dwarven runes carved into it. Unlike the rest of the metal they had found in the deep roads, this blade looked brand new and wasn't stained with rust or dirt or blood. She picked up the blade, it was surprisingly light.

"That does not belong to you, casteless," Duran sneered.

"What? It's not like she's using it. I'm gonna need a better weapon anyways if I'm gonna be a Grey Warden. This sword looks pretty damn nifty to me."

"You have yet to become a Grey Warden. That sword is property of the noble house Aeducan, it is an insult to the stone for someone such as yourself to wield it." He grabbed the weapon from her and pushed her aside.

"Oh really?!" she pushed him back, "Then you must be a real fucking insult, because the stone deemed you unworthy to beat me in the proving, and deemed my sister worthy to share the bed of the last remaining heir to the Aeducan throne."

"Your sister is a filthy whore and she will never bear an Aeducan!" He spat at her feet.

"How dare you!!!!" She knocked the sword aside and lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. At this point they had grabbed the attention of the two Grey Wardens, who quickly rushed to pull the two apart. Duran heaved heavy sighs, his arms were being held back by Duncan his nose was bleeding, causing small red droplets to appear on the ground below him. Alistair had grabbed Brosca around the waist, where she flailed and kicked and screamed sporting a bloody scratch on her arm.

"Enough," cried Duncan, "You have both requested to join the order of the Grey Wardens. We are an ancient order of great warriors who throughout the centuries have looked beyond race and class to defeat the greatest enemy our world had known. If there will be any problems between the two of you I am more than willing to leave you both here and continue my search for Grey Wardens elsewhere." He released Duran.

Duran hung his head and solemnly apologized. "Please accept my apology Ser Duncan, it will not happen again."

Brosca stopped wriggling about, and still in Alistair's grip conceded, "I'll play nice with the deshyr, I promise."

Duncan merely shook his head at the two of them and picked up the sword. A look of exhaustion swam over his face, and walked off. "We are almost near the outpost. From there it will only be a week until we reach Lake Calenhad."

Alistair grimaced. Duran dutifully followed, and Brosca picked up her small wooden shield and quietly followed suit.

* * *

"Amell! Are you alright? Wake up!"

Amell felt a hard push on his left forearm. "What is it Jowan?"

He breathed an audible sigh of relief. "I'm glad you're alright, I saw them drag you in this morning, I didn't even realize you've been gone all night. Some apprentices never come back from their Harrowings the same, I was worried."

Amell sat up, patting the spot on his bed next to him. "To say that I myself was sure of my adequate abilities to handle such a task would be a lie. I was rather surprised that they took me tonight, to be frank, what with Wynne off to Ostagar."

"Perhaps First Enchanter is not expecting her to return, and he didn't want to have to assign you to another enchanter."

"Surely First Enchanter would not make an important decision like an apprentice's harrowing for such a bureaucratic reason."

Jowan sat there awkward and silent. "Was it really that difficult? What was it like?"

Amell gave Jowan a knowing look. "You know that I can't tell you Jowan."

"Fine, fine, I'll leave you alone then. And now you get to move to the nice mage's quarters upstairs with Surana while I'm stuck down here and I don't know when they'll call me for my harrowing."

"You simply have not become proficient enough in your studies yet Jowan. They'll summon you when you're ready."

"I've been here longer than both of you have. I'm the oldest one in the apprentice quarters. Sometimes I think they just don't want to test me."

"Time does not always equal ability Jowan. You still have yet to been able to consistently produce a powerful fireball."

"Yeah Jowan, don't be so paranoid," a tall, dark elven girl joked. Jowan looked around uncomfortably. He hadn't noticed how loudly he had been speaking. "Congratulations, Amell. I heard you went through the Harrowing last night. Get to come join me in the big boy tower now."

"I'm not paranoid," Jowan insisted quietly, "there's something..." he sighed after noticing his friends exchange incredulous glances. "I shouldn't waste your time with this."

Surana shrugged. "So Cullen told me that yours was the quickest, cleanest Harrowing he'd ever seen, after mine, of course"

"He would say that, considering ours are the _only_ Harrowings he's ever seen."

"Okay, I know I'm not supposed to know about the Harrowing... but we're friends. Just a little hint and I'll stop asking, I promise." Jowan looked at his friends pleadingly.

"You enter the fade," Surana answered nonchalantly.

"Surana! Part of the test of the Harrowing is to face the unknown."

"He'll find out soon enough. It can't be long until they take him to the Harrowing. Plus, they don't tell you when they're going to do it, they just drag you out of your bed in the middle of the night. He'll be plenty surprised."

Jowan looked at them. "You have to enter the fade? Really? That's it?"

Surana continued. "Well, you have to fight a demon, and if it possesses you the templars smash in your face with the pommel of their swords."

"Surana! First Enchanter would be ashamed of you. We are not supposed to share this information with an apprentice. It defeats the entire purpose of the Harrowing."

"Oh, so I'm just some apprentice now. Why don't you just go to the _real_ mage's quarters then you don't have to worry about the apprentices hearing you."

"I'm sorry Jowan. You should simply be more patient, that's all that I meant. Why aren't you in the mage's quarters Surana?"

"Irving sent me. He wants you to go talk to him as soon as you wake up."

"I better not keep First Enchanter waiting. We can talk later."

Amell and Surana stood outside the door of First Enchanter's Study. They could hear shouting from inside. Amell was about to knock, but Surana held back his hand, put a finger to her lips and her ear to the door. They heard the harsh voice of Knight-Commander Greagoir, head of the Circle's templars.

"Many have already gone to Ostagar: Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages. We have committed enough of our own to this war effort."

The voice that responded was the husky tone of the First Enchanter. "Your own? Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages Greagoir? Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision where they can actually use their maker-given powers?"

"How dare you suggest-"

"Gentlemen please!" Neither mage recognized the third voice, which had made Surana curious enough that she rapped loudly on the door. They heard Irving's voice tell them to enter. Amell opened the door, Surana looked inside, noticed the company, and quickly scurried off. Greagoir and Irving were there as well as two well-armored humans and two dwarves. They were dirty and looked exhausted as though they had gotten to the tower by swimming through Lake Calenhad.

"Ah, if it isn't our new brother in the circle, come child."

Amell smiled bashfully.

Greagoir looked at him suspiciously. "Well, Irving, you're obviously busy, we shall discuss this matter at another time."

"Of course. Ah, well where was I? Oh yes, this is Duncan and the Grey Wardens. You've heard about the war brewing to the south. Wynne has told you I expect. Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king's army at Ostagar."

"Oh, well that's lovely," Amell replied awkwardly.

"Yes," drawled the tall blond, "lovely. The one thing I love about the blight is how it brings people together."

Duncan gave the blond youth a reproachful look. The ginger dwarf quietly giggled, while the dark-skinned dwarf looked as though he couldn't care less. Amell stared blankly at him, unable to tell whether or not he was serious.

Duncan continued, "The darkspawn have formed into a hoard in the Kocari wilds and threaten to invade north into the valley. I fear if we don't drive them back we may see another blight."

Irving stepped in. "Duncan, you worry the lad with talks of blights and darkspawn. This is a happy day for him."

"Oh yes," piped up the blond warden again, "let us not worry the lad with talk of the real world."

"We live in troubled time times, my friend," Duncan added.

"We should seize moments of levity, especially in troubled times." Irving turned to Amell, smiling, "The Harrowing is behind you. You are officially a mage within the circle of magi. I present you with your robes, your staff, and a ring bearing the circle's insignia. Wear them proudly for you have earned them."

Amell bowed his head. "Thank you, First Enchanter, I am honored to be a member of the circle."

"It goes without saying that you shall not discuss the Harrowing with those who have not yet undergone the rite."

"Of course not First Enchanter."

He smiled. "Now then, take your rest or study in the library, the day is yours, but would you be so kind as to escort the Grey Wardens to their chambers?"

"It would be my pleasure, First Enchanter."

"Thank you. If you'll both excuse me I have matters to discuss with Greagoir."

First Enchanter Irving walked out of the room, leaving Amell with the four Wardens.

"Right, so um, the guest quarters are on the east side of this floor." He began to lead the Wardens out into the hall. "What brings you to the Tower Circle, Ser Duncan?"

"Mages are uniquely equipped to combat darkspawn. The power you mages wield is an asset to any army. Your spells are very effective against large groups of mindless darkspawn. When the King sent the call the circle sent only seven mages to Ostagar. I asked King Cailin's permission to come seek a greater commitment from the circle. We also seek to rest from our journey through the Frostback Mountains. As a fellow neutral force the Circle has always readily aligned itself with the Grey Wardens."

"Seven is quite a few mages, Ser Duncan. The number of apprentices easily overwhelm the number of enchanters, and though the templars are undoubtedly effective in their efforts to protect the circle without the careful attention of trained mages to mentor our young students, they would fall to blood magic and demonic possession."

The blond warden mumbled something incoherent.

"I hope to place a mage or two at every contingent I cannot do with just seven. Mages will make all the difference in this battle. The darkspawn have their own magic and our resources must exceed theirs. Darkspawn are a greater threat than blood mages even abominations. It takes decades for the world to recover from a blight. I wish the Chantry could see that we must stop at nothing to defeat the Darkspawn. Ah, listen to me, an old man's rantings can't be very interesting."

"Oh no, Ser Duncan, it was actually quite interesting."

Duncan chuckled, "You are too kind."

"Here are the guest quarters." he pointed to four open doors, which he assumed had been intended for the wardens. "Perhaps you should discuss your ideas with the heads of the fraternities. Possibly the Libertarians might be willing to commit some of their own to your cause." _They'll accept any crazy mission to leave the tower. If nothing else, hopefully Ostagar will dwindle their numbers and weaken their influence. "_If you require anything the tranquil will be more than happy to assist you. You may contact them at the stock room, which is in the main room through this door to your left. Rest well and may the Maker watch over you, Grey Wardens."

* * *

Duran sat on his bed. He felt out of place since they left the deep roads. Everything was so bright and so open. The walls of the circle were almost comforting. The design was Avvar, but he could tell that much of the smithing and construction was dwarven.

_To think that this is the closest I may ever again come to the glorious halls of Orzammar..._

He picked at his sheets. They were a rough periwinkle linen, though nicer than derelict bedroll he'd been forced to sleep on for the past couple weeks. Sometimes he wished he had been left in the deep roads. He didn't belong on the surface, and he certainly didn't belong in this building with these _things_. Magic made him uncomfortable, it just wasn't right, and all the lyrium in this place... He shuddered. How no one here was addled... He lied down on the bed, staring at the stone grey arches high above his bed, trying to pretend he was anywhere but here. The Grey Wardens had been a disappointment to him. Duncan was alright. He was an incredibly skilled warrior and appeared to be wise, but his choice in recruits...? Duran had somehow expected more from the wardens. Alistair barely seemed to take fighting darkspawn seriously, and he certainly was not as skilled as most who had served under Duran's command. And the brand girl was a disgrace, the way she gushed over Alistair. Did she have no shame? A human? And the way she marveled at all the things on the surface. She was almost like a child sometimes. He remembered when they had finally left the deep roads behind them.

_They had finally reached a pair of intricate, metal doors. They were dusty and stained with ichor and blood, though the tunnel itself was relatively free of the creeping, black taint that lined most of the deep roads. All four wardens were exhausted. It had been several days since any of them had had any sleep, being constantly plagued by darkspawn or giant spiders or deep stalkers. The sword that the branded girl had found had been of some use. It glowed a faint blue when darkspawn were nearby, a very old enchantment that Duran had not seen in a long time. Duncan had used its powers to try and avoid the darkspawn. However, it often seemed as though they traveled farther and farther from their destination. But they had finally found them, a pair of doors that they hoped would lead to the other side of the Frostback Mountains, just above Lake Calenhad where the mage tower loomed over its inhabitants. Duncan and the casteless girl moved the large doors to the side while Alistair helped Duran bandage up a wound he had recently incurred from a rather tenacious spiderling. As soon as the doors opened a gust of wet, cold wind burst through. It was an odd sensation for Duran. He had never before seen the surface or felt wind or snow, though he had heard of such things before. There was a popular story that dwarven children often heard about a lyrium addled young girl who accidentally walked on to the surface and the strange things she saw there. In the end of the tale she was swallowed up by the sky and never heard from again. It was a warning to children of the dangers of the surface. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud scream. The casteless girl had run towards the back of the tunnel and wound herself around a stalactite._

_ "I'm NOT going out there!" she screamed, terrified and shaking, hugging the rock formation for dear life. The two Grey Wardens rushed to her side._

_ "Brosca," Duncan coaxed, "you knew that we would have to leave Orzammar. We must continue, the king is expecting us. Staying in the deep roads would mean certain death."_

_ She shook her head fervently. "Yeah, but I didn't know it was gonna be like THAT!"_

_ Cold winds continued to blow into the tunnel, washing out the smell of death that lingered about the deep roads. Duran stood near the entrance. He didn't want to admit it, but he too had the urge to run to the back of the tunnel and cling for dear life to the stone. It was incredibly bright, almost blindingly so, he felt a muted burning sensation in his eyes as he continued to stare into the expanse. And there was no end to it all. The top, the sides, they just kept going and going. It was unnatural and unnerving. It made him feel nauseous. He slouched against one of the walls, still staring through the opening. He noticed that the screams and pleas of the casteless girl had stopped. He glanced back. They had blindfolded her and Alistair had picked her up and was carrying her out of the tunnel. Duran followed them, not daring to show the terror or sadness that he felt. He was a soldier, and would do what his commander required of him. What other choice did he have, really? He and Duncan, who seemed unsettled, closed the large metal doors behind them and walked down a path, barely visible through the snow._

Alistair had continued to carry the whimpering duster for almost half a mile. Then they had stopped to set up camp in a clearing, where he let her down and took off the blindfold. She immediately started excitedly asking questions about everything, and hadn't stopped until they had reached the First Enchanters study. It almost seemed at times as though she preferred the surface to Orzammar. Perhaps a lack of connection to the stone meant that she had no stone sense at all. Very possibly. How did he end up here? Something had to change...

* * *

"I'll help you, Jowan, Lily, I promise."

The three of them looked at Amell. He had been quiet since Lily had started talking

"I don't know..."

"Amell, they're going to turn me tranquil. Our friendship, my love for Lily, all gone. You can't let them do this to me. Amell, please, you're my best friend."

"Alright, of course, Jowan, I'm sorry. I'm just... worried. Even if we destroy your phylactery, the templars they'll still hunt you. You'll never really be free."

"I don't care. I would rather die than become Tranquil. At least this way there's a chance for me a Lily to be together. I don't care about magic anymore, I just want to live a simple life with Lily."

"Don't worry Jowan, Amell and I will come through. You and Lily should just lie low until we get back."

Jowan and Lily thanked them again and skulked off to a corner of the chantry room. Surana and Amell walked outside. Once they were far enough away, Surana turned to Amell and blurted, "I can't believe that fat cow is Jowan's girlfriend!"

Amell laughed. "I know. I thought he was making up this mystery girlfriend. Now I almost wish he was. Are we really going to let do him this?"

"Amell, they're going to turn him tranquil! I can't say I'm excited about him running off with lint-brained Lily, but at least he'll still be alive."

"Maybe running away isn't the right answer. Jowan is _not_ a blood mage. He can barely even light a candle. Maybe if we just talked to First Enchanter Irving or Knight-Commander Greagoir-"

"No! Then Jowan's chance is ruined forever. Lily said she saw the order to tranquilize. She's stupid, and boring, and annoying, but she wouldn't throw her life away for nothing. Even she isn't that thick." Surana sighed. "Amell, I want to take care of a few things."

"Yeah, sure, I'll see you soon."

Surana walked off. Amell waited for her to turn round the bend. He wanted to help Jowan, but something just didn't feel right. There had to be another way, running away wasn't the answer. Amell timidly knocked on the door to the First Enchanter's study. The door opened.

"Ah, Amell, my boy. How is your first day as a mage going? You saw the wardens to their chambers, I expect?"

"Yes, of course. May I come in ser?"

"Yes, yes, come in, come in."

"I wanted to ask you about Jowan, ser."

"Yes?" First Enchanter Irving looked at him expectantly.

"Well, I was wondering ser, when he was going to be called for his Harrowing."

"When he is ready." Irving knew that there was something Amell was not telling him.

"It's just that I heard somewhere that Jowan is going to be made Tranquil and I thought that it couldn't possibly be true because you know....."

"And where did you hear this? I suppose the young initiate he dallies about with revealed it to him?"

"Initiate?" Amell asked nervously, "What initiate?"

"Do not lie to me boy," his face was stern, almost angry, "Did you think I did not know? Did you think Greagoir and the chantry mother did not know? I did not become first enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut."

"Well, is that why he's being tranquilized? Couldn't you simply transfer Lily to another chantry? Tranqulization seems like rather a quite extreme measure to be taken."

"Greagoir says that he has proof – an eyewitness testimony – that Jowan has been practicing blood magic. Were the decision in my hands, things might be different. But the Chantry... I'm sorry, child. This Rite of Tranquility will happen." He placed a hand sympathetically on the lad's shoulder.

"I think I need to be alone for a while."

"It will be alright, child. It is all for the best."

Amell blankly nodded and walked to his new room. When he arrived he noticed Jowan was there waiting for him.

"Did you get the rod yet?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Jowan?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure that you love Lily? Enough that you'd be willing to throw away your life to be with her?"

"It's not just to be with her. I can't be made tranquil! Even if there was no Lily, I cannot let them extinguish my humanity."

"I'm just asking Jowan, are you sure that you're in love with Lily?"

"Look, I am in love with Lily, Amell, whether she meets your standards or not!"

"But she's awful, Jowan, and not as bright or funny as you. I'm just worried that you're making a huge mistake that you'll regret for the rest of your life."

"Lily is sweet and kind and wonderful and if you can't-"

"Is it because she slept with you? I'm sure you could find someone else who would sleep with you."

"What's that supposed to mean Amell? You think I'm such a hopeless loser that I'll marry the first girl who sleeps with me. I'm choosing to be with Lily, because I love her."

"But if you've never been with anyone else how do you even know that it isn't-! Look Jowan, she's just a fling! Let her go. We can appeal together, your case will be stronger without and illegal relationship with a servant of the Chantry."

"I slept with Surana, plenty of times, and I do not want to marry her. I want to be with Lily and I don't care if it kills me."

"You're lying. You're just trying to change the subject. Plus, you would have told me, because we're best friends, the three of us."

"I shouldn't have said anything." He paused for a moment, looking down at his hands, which lay clasped in his lap. "Look, if you don't like Lily and you don't want to help me, then fine. But just let me go, don't keep me here and send me to my death."

"I'm trying to keep you from your death. You may be tranquilized, but at least you won't be dead."

"The Rite of Tranquility is just another kind of death. You're still breathing and existing, but you're not living. Amell, this is my choice, and if you're really my friend, like you say you are, you'll support it."

"I'm sorry Jowan, I can't help you ruin your life."

Jowan looked hurt, tears in his eyes, he mustered a "Fine, then," and walked off.

Amell screamed into his pillow, wiped the tears from his face, and headed for the First Enchanter's study.

* * *

"Alistair shine the armor. Alistair cook the food. Alistair tell the First Enchanter I need to see him. Honestly it's like the bloody chantry all over again. Alistair official dog of the Grey Wardens."

Alistair walked down the halls of the circle. He complained, though he didn't mind it, not really. He was happy just to be a Grey Warden, even if he did catch some flack for being the junior member. He wished they could spend less time at the circle though. Alistair joined the wardens to get away from templars and mages and the Chantry. The deep roads had been more what he enjoyed about being a Grey Warden. Traveling to strange places with your brethren making sure there's at least one less darkspawn to worry about. He cracked the door to the First Enchanter's study open. There were two people standing inside. A tall dark, beautiful elven girl and curly-haired man in templar armor. She had him pinned to the wall, and was nibbling at the nape of his neck. He groaned.

"Surana... we can't- ugh... this is so wrong..."

She smiled deviously, sliding her hand under the skirt of his Templar robes. He tore off his gauntlets, throwing them carelessly to the floor and wrapping his arms around her, groping frantically. She let out a low moan.

"Cullen... Oh Cullen... Please..."

She looked up at him, her doey eyes seething with desire and lust, her hand still occupying itself in the folds of his skirt. The templar gasped for air, "Oh... yes."

She grabbed him by the plate, and threw him over to the desk, knocking aside a quill and several papers. He quivered with anticipation. Before Alistair could blink her robes crumpled to a pile on the floor, and she stood there, completely exposed. She straddled him, and untied his skirt. He moved to remove his plate. She pushed him back onto the desk.

"No, keep it on" she purred, "I like the feeling of the hard metal on my skin."

The mage began to slowly move up and down, pressing down on the templars chest as her legs hung over the side of the desk. The templar twitched and let out a loud "Oh Maker!"

Alistair knew he should close the door and run far far away, but he couldn't. He was paralyzed. So he stood there and watched, transfixed. He tried to look away but his eyes kept moving back to her body: her soft, round hips, her slender waist, her low, gutteral moans, the way her breasts jiggled as she moved on top of the templar, helpless in his ecstasy.

"Oh my stones, he's still wearing his armor? That's so hot!"

Alistair almost jumped out of his skin. Brosca was standing below him, staring through the crack in the door. "I was just..." Alistair quickly, and quietly slammed it shut.

"Hey! What'd ya do that for? It was just starting to get good!"

He quickly ushered her down the hall and into an empty room.

"Wow Alistair, here? Now? I don't know what to say!"

Alistair turned bright red. "Woah! Woah! No! I didn't mean! We just needed to... ARGH!"

Duncan walked into the room. "Alistair, what are you doing in here? Did you deliver my message to Irving?"

"No... well... you see...."

"Fine, I will go to his study myself."

"NO!" they yelled in unison.

"Um.. what we mean is that we went to deliver the message and the First Enchanter wasn't there. We were just looking for him."

Duncan gave them a quizzical look and walked away.

The two of them just stood there, staring at each other in silence for several moments.

"BWAHAHAHAHA!" Brosca burst out laughing, and soon Alistair followed.

* * *

Amell walked into the Chantry. Jowan was sitting in the corner despondently, while Lily prayed in front of the statue of Andraste. Jowan looked up with a mixture of eagerness and anxiousness and Amell walked towards him.

"Jowan, I was thinking about what you said, and I'm sorry. I don't agree with what you're doing, at all. But I can't let you leave angry at me. I'm going to miss you terribly." He pulled out a shining, metal rod from his bag. "I retrieved the rod of fire. Once Surana arrives, we'll head down to the basement and I'll help you destroy your phylactery and escape."

Jowan jumped up and embraced Amell. "Thank you. Thank you so much. You cannot imagine what this means to me. I will never forget that you did this for me Amell. I will never forget you."

"What are friends for?"

* * *

Amell and Surana returned to the mages' quarters to pack their things. Surana was seething with rage.

"I can't believe you betrayed us. I hope the darkspawn devour your shrunken shriveled heart!"

"_I_ betrayed you? Jowan was a blood mage! He lied to us! Jowan was never really our friend, only an evil blood mage. He deserves whatever he gets now."

"He used a little blood magic and so you go off and turn him in to Irving? You really are a tool. I told Jowan that you couldn't be trusted, but he didn't listen."

"You knew?!?! You knew he was a blood mage?!?! I don't even know the two of you anymore! What are you a blood mage too?" Surana didn't say anything. "Andraste's grace!"

"What are you going to do Amell? Turn me in like Jowan, feed me to the templars?"

"Maybe I will."

"Fine, you do that. I'd rather be stricken down by the maker's mighty hand than have to spend the rest of my life traveling around Ferelden with you."

"Fine."

Amell walked out the door as Surana angrily knocked over her chest behind him. The First Enchanter was talking to Duncan about the arrangements of his and Surana's impending travels.

"First Enchanter, I need to talk to you."

"I know you do not wish to leave the circle, but I think it is for the best, Amell. The Wardens will be your new family."

"It's not about that. It's about Surana. She and Jowan learned blood magic together. You cannot let her become a warden. We must tell Greagoir, we cannot allow two blood mages to run free in Ferelden."

"I do not think that would be wise."

"I know, as if one blood mage isn't bad enough..."

"You do not understand Amell, you must not let Greagoir, or anyone, know about Surana."

"Ser, I don't think you understand, she's a _blood mage_."

"I know. Who do you think was Jowan's eye witness testimony? I caught her practicing blood magic and in exchange for her freedom she told me about Jowan."

Amell stared at him with a mixture of anger and confusion. "I'm sorry ser, I still don't understand."

"Every time one of our students turns to blood magic, the chantry becomes more suspicious and imposes more rules upon the circle. I can no longer afford to jeopardize our position because rebellious mages dabble in the dark arts. This way Surana's mistake will be hidden from the templars and she will be able to use her status as a Grey Warden to curry favor for the Circle Mages."

There were a million things that Amell wanted to say and to ask. Was the First Enchanter hoping she would use her blood magic on those with influence for the circle? If you can't tell Greagoir, couldn't you just execute punishment yourself and make it look like an accident? How many secret maleficarum are there in the circle? "Why didn't you just send Jowan with the Wardens too?"

"Greagoir is not stupid. He knew that someone was practicing blood magic. Surana was a mage, Jowan was only an apprentice. It looks better for the circle if an apprentice is caught with blood magic than a mage. If a mage turns maleficar, it is the fault of the Senior Enchanters, my fault, for letting him or her go through the harrowing. The templars are driven by fear. A blood mage is far more terrifying to a templar than a blood mage apprentice."

"But why are you sending me away? I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Greagoir is upset and suspicious. I had not planned to send you away, but after you delivered Jowan and Lily to us, the things Greagoir said. It was the easiest way to placate him."

"This is wrong, Irving, all of this, and you know it!"

"There is no other way, child."

Amell flew up his hands and walked back to his room to finish packing.


End file.
